It's yesterday once more with old father Tel

As an English West Ham supporter I feel like my resources of optimism are relentlessly plundered and that I can no longer remain cock-eyed. How are we as a nation, less than four months after our departure from the World Cup in Germany, to conjure the goodwill and belief required to enjoy this match against Macedonia? Steve McClaren was after all present throughout Sven- Goran Eriksson's reign. It's difficult to herald a new dawn when it so tangibly smacks of yesterday.

And equally odd is that McClaren has chosen to emerge from Eriksson's shadow arm-in-arm with the spiv-duke of Dagenham, Terry Venables. The choice of Venables as his No2 is a popular one. Everyone I've spoken to thinks it's a great decision. Venables as a man elicits great warmth from people, me included. I think of him as a kind of sexy Father Christmas. There are few men upon whose laps I'd happily sit without feeling compromised. I can think of nothing more comforting than to curl up on the thighs of El Tel, sedated by the Aramis whiff and slurp egg-nog from a baby bottle - I assume all Englishmen feel the same.

I think the decision to appoint Venables has been inspired by nostalgia. I approve of this because I'm a nostalgic man - when I think of the achievements of Euro 96, how close we came to the final, it's easy for me to become lachrymose and sentimental. Why stop at Venables, why not play Steve McManaman in midfield? Why not bring back Gazza and Alan Shearer? Why don't we resurrect the Twin Towers and stand smothered in rosettes twirling rattles in our hands, guzzling pies, defiant against the Hun, shoulder to shoulder behind our brave boys?

Euro 96 was a fabulous tournament; I was living above a pub in north London, working shifts in lieu of rent. When England went out on penalties, I was working behind the bar, drunk and disillusioned. My friends who also lived in the pub had watched the game elsewhere and my way of coping with yet another English defeat was to joke about it, saying something mock-conciliatory like: "Don't worry, in a decade's time Terry Venables will return under the stewardship of Steve McClaren. A man whose gin-blossoming schnoz is morphing by the day into that of the Knight of Old Trafford. Mourn not for the loss of Venables, for a decade from now he'll come wheezing back to the fore." This I did foresee with the perspicacity of a tipsy Nostradamus.

Venables now, great manager though he may have been, is quite old. Isn't he rather old for that kind of responsibility? There are members of my family less aged than him who I wouldn't trust to organise my sock drawer, let alone the England defence.

So today against Macedonia will it be 3-5-2 or 4-4-2? It looks like Shaun Wright-Phillips might play, which would mean that Ian Wright's punditry will again be hugely biased. What about that time when Wright-Phillips was substituted, Wright refused to join in on the post-match commentary. I admire Wright's authenticity and honesty. Perhaps he should also be brought into the management structure and we could work on subdividing Wright-Phillips to play in every position. England, I'm sure, will beat Macedonia today but will we recapture the heady days of Euro 96? Gazza's flick, Shearer's glint, Pearce's war cry. I imagine the answer is no.

I'm in no position to debunk nostalgia - if it were up to me World Cup coins would replace the pound - but it worries me when a national team needing desperately to move forward starts to ransack the past. The set-up of the England coaching staff feels like the British Museum with stolen Elgin Marbles and artefacts from around the globe, monuments from yesteryear propping up the structure of our national team. It's difficult to worry about whether Michael Carrick or Scott Parker should replace the injured Owen Hargreaves when it seems that any minute Alf Ramsey might be summoned from the spirit world to offer tactical advice. I hope to God the top brass at the FA have not been watching The Match on Sky One or it may herald the return of Graham Taylor to the hierarchy.

Perhaps England should follow the example of The Match and field a team of preening celebrities against Macedonia, then I might get a game and my enthusiasm might be truly stoked. Even if England do win and eventually qualify for the European Championship, where will it lead to? One can't help but think, to more disappointment.

At least Venables' involvement means that when England's inevitable failure arrives we can sit and watch episodes of his self-penned cop drama Hazell in a private booth at his nightclub Scribes, snug in a blanket of cosy nostalgia.